Doubting Aside
by ashestoashesanddusttodust
Summary: Drabbles from other POVs that do not fit the main Doubting Gets You Places story.
1. Chapter 1

**Doubting Aside  
**

**A Word**: Different POVs and things that don't fit in the Doubting main fic. Have some Dick and Steph.

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Dick is tired. He's tired and hungry and in very real danger of contracting a major case of the assholeitis as he pulls into the Cave. Parking his borrowed bike to the side where Bruce disassembles the vehicles they inevitably pick up on patrol. It's a nice bike given he'd gotten it from a pimp who thought a motorcycle was a better investment than a bullet proof vest.

Dick _did_ catch the guys who shot the man because of it, but he still would have gone with a vest personally.

"Dick!" Steph calls out from one of the tables. Voice bright and happy in a way Dick's just not feeling as she devours a sandwich at a terrifying rate. "Alfred got us roast beef."

_May the gods bless that man_. Dick throws himself into a chair. Bumping his little sister out of the way and tearing into a sandwich. He nearly moans at the taste and Steph snickers at him. "Must've been a busy night if you skipped _snack time_."

The way she emphasizes the words is shows her derision of the sacred fifteen minutes Dick usually spends eating anything he can get his hands on during patrol. "Just you wait. Some day, you'll grow out of that cute phase and people will stop feeding you on patrol. You'll rue the day you ever mocked snack time then."

Steph nearly chokes on her second sandwich as she laughs. It's totally not fair though. There are people along Steph's normal patrol routes that stay up just to feed the young Robin. Kids who hoard cookies like she's Santa Claus and little old ladies who save slices of homemade pie. Dick knows. He used to be Robin and enjoyed those bounties, but the second he dropped the panties it'd all dried up. Nothing but mace and curses for Nightwing.

They demolish the plate in minutes. Steph reluctantly giving up the last sandwich when Dick flips his lenses down to give her the puppy eyes that've yet to fail him.

"Hey, Dick," Steph starts with a frown as he stands up to shower and change. He gives her an encouraging smile when she hesitates. "There's this guy at school-"

Dick's stomach turns to lead and he sits back down immediately. His smile stretching across his face. Forced and nearly feral. "Really? What's his name?" And his address and his description.

"Not like that," Steph rolls her eyes in exasperation, but Dicks not falling for that move this time. Last time, Steph had brought home an asshole after pulling that line to make him back off. "Seriously, Dick, I'm pretty sure he's gay, and that's not what I want to talk about," she says louder as he opens his mouth because she's tried that one too and it ended just as badly. "I think he's getting hit at home."

_That's a new one_, Dick thinks before his brain kicks him. That's not a subject that Steph would throw around lightly. "You got proof?"

"He's bruised up a lot," Steph's frown is stubborn now and Dick nearly sighs at the obvious evasion, "and his dad drinks all the time. I don't think I've ever seen him not drunk."

"Anything else?" Dick asks knowing the answer already, but giving her the benefit of the doubt. Steph is silent. "Does this kid admit it's happening?"

"No," Steph grudgingly admits. Her face set and mulish. Which he take to mean the kid probably goes out of his way to say the opposite.

"Steph, you know we can't-"

"I know!" Steph shouts and Dick can hear the frustrated end of several conversations with Bruce in it. "I know it won't do any good without proof, I know we can't help him if he won't admit it, I know we can make it worse if-" Steph slumps down on the table her hair spilling out to hide her face. "It just sucks. I want to help him. But."

Dick reaches out and starts combing some of the tangles out of her hair. "Hey, you talk to this guy at school right?" Steph nods mutely. "Well keep talking to him. You might be helping just by being his friend you know? So just stick around him. Maybe he'll start talking one day. And then?" Dick smiles as she peeks out through her hair at him. "Well, I hear Robin's got a pretty nasty punch these days."

Steph's laugh follows him into the shower.

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	2. Chapter 2

**Doubting Aside  
**

**A Word**: Ibid.

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Dinah Lance is a terrifyingly open woman. She takes to Tim with a quickness that Tim's Gotham bred suspicion doesn't like one bit, and, if the way Babs is smiling is any indication, it's an amusing sight to see.

"He'd be delighted," Dinah repeats as she smooths a lock of hair out of Tim's face. There's only the slightest hint of misgiving in her eyes as she obviously looks down at Tim's small frame. There and gone in a matter of seconds. "I think Connor would like a chance to see what being a teacher is like."

And maybe make a friend. Tim hears the unspoken lament that he's only overheard her saying a hundred times while hiding in one of Babs' rooms or closets. "Well, then, I'm sorry he's going to try on me."

"You'll be fine," Babs rolls up, a printed packet of airplane tickets in her lap as she reaches up to pinch Tim's cheek. All sharp nails and sharper smile. "I just want you to get the basics so we can really start running you through the grinder here. It always works best if you get some outside teaching before getting it all beat out of you."

That makes no sense to Tim in a way that is kind of terrifying as Dinah laughs. Her arm, all muscle, wrapping around Tim and pulling him into a playful hug as the woman says, "We'll make a fighter out of this one in no time."

~

Star City is light and open in a way that sets Tim on edge. They're not even out of the terminal and Tim's already got a ten page list of differences. He wonders if Star City is that much different, or if it's just Gotham that's different. He's pretty sure it's the latter when he takes a deep breath and starts coughing.

"You've never been out of Gotham before, have you?" Dinah steers him to baggage as Tim coughs and realizes that, yes, the very air smells different. Her voice is sad as she pats his back lightly. "I guess that's what makes you so good at what you do. You'll get used to it in a bit."

"Thanks," Tim breathes out as he seizes control of his lungs and forces himself to take calm, measured breaths. Doubtful that the off scent will be something he can ever get used to.

~

Watching Connor move is not at all unlike watching a dancer. He moves across the mat lined room with a fluidity that Tim's only really seen in Dick Grayson until now. His body knows the moves and each one is made without thought. One flowing into another in a mesmerizing dance that doesn't look deadly until you imagine another person in front of him. Connor spins to a stop with one last strike. His body low to the ground and tense as he breathes it all out. His body going lax before he stands up and looks expectantly over at Tim.

Tim looks at Connor, looks at the perfectly smooth mat, and looks back. "I'm reasonably sure that I can't walk across the room without tripping over my own two feet."

Connor doesn't look upset or frustrated that his student is proving to be reluctant. He gives Tim a small smile and lays a hand encouragingly on his shoulder. "Well, you have to start somewhere to learn things, Tim. Just try it. It will give us an idea where to start."

Tim stares up at that smile and doesn't do anything but nod. He knows himself too well to trust what might come out of his mouth. He already has the sinking feeling that he's going to be paying for these next few months in ways he thought were behind him. Tim manages a rough approximation of the set that Connor had shown him by the end of the day. Jerky movements and stumbling steps that Connor praises him for even as Tim picks himself off the floor. Face a red mask of mortification as they get called in for dinner.

That night, Tim dreams about Connor's dark skin under his hands.

~

Tim wakes early. 3AM early because his last job had been taking photos of a late night crowd that only surfaced around 4AM, and he still hasn't gotten back into the habit of staying up late to sleep late. Awake, he moves out of the guest room and makes his way through the house. It's silent in a way that's comforting to Tim as he makes his way to the practice room.

There's a window and enough moonlight comes in that Tim doesn't bother turning on a light. He settles himself into the opening stance Connor had patiently corrected him on until he had it down pat. He moves. Going through the motions as best he can remember them, and he thinks about it. Thinks about what each move is meant to do. How he can use each one if he needs to.

Without the weight of Connor's eyes it's easier. Tim disconnects from the movements. Lets his mind retreat just a bit and his body move without thought. Tim practices until a door in the house clicks open, the sound sudden and loud as a gunshot. He stops and notices the light coming in through the window is from the sun and not the moon. His arms ache a little but Tim feels almost peaceful as he goes into the house and finds Connor coming down the stairs.

"You're awake," Connor smiles and seems almost as surprised as he is pleased.

"I've been waking early at home for work," Tim holds onto that sense of peace as Connor bends down to slide on some running shoes. It's just after six and they're the only ones up, so no one notices the way Tim looks everywhere else but the man.

"I usually run until breakfast. Would you like to come?" Connor asks as if it's fine whichever way Tim answers. As if this isn't something that Tim might actually need to do before even beginning to approach the levels he needs to be at for this training.

"Sure," Tim stares at his bare feet and shrugs as he turns to go back up the stairs. "Just give me a bit."

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	3. Chapter 3

**Doubting Aside  
**

**A Word**: And now, something from Jason's POV.

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Jason's heard a lot about the Oracle. How he's -_she's_- got eyes and ears everywhere. Her fingers in every pot the city has. Tilting the odds and selling her services for the right price. She works across the lines, not turning away anyone from either side of the fight without a damn good reason. Her name had come up almost from day one of Jason getting back into Gotham.

Finding her feelers in the city wasn't hard for Jason. Finding one high enough up the chain to be able to put in a word personally was a bit more of a challenge. He'd almost put his bid in with a brother and sister team when he stumbled across a dark haired boy putting his nose into some business that was clearly out of his league.

The Russians were hard and intimidating men that loomed over the really very fragile looking boy with a ratty hoodie and even rattier looking bag slung over his back. Jason had thought he'd have to step in just to save the kid's ass for a few minutes before it registered that the men were _deferring_ to the scrawny punk.

Tim, no last name given, was apparently one of the unsung forces in the city. A quiet, unassuming kid that even the toughest bruisers listened to if they knew what was good for them, because messing with him was the same as messing with Oracle. And there was no telling what kind of favors that woman could pull.

So, little Timmy it was. Jason had put in his request and the kid, who really wasn't that much younger when Jason got close enough to see him, would pass it along. Deal done and over. All he had to do was wait to be contacted to work something out between them.

Jason's not really sure why he shadowed Tim afterwards. Keeping up with the buses and nearly breaking his neck one too many times when the bus route turned into the nicer areas of Gotham. Kept going right past them and entered the extremely nice areas. The spots just a rung or two below the cavernous manor houses that exist just outside the city.

Tim trudges through streets clean enough to eat off of and turns to a building big enough to be a six family apartment, but is only meant for one family in this part of the city. Jason vaults onto the building's sloped roof and glances around. There's a faint light coming from one of the windows on the backside. Jason scales down the wall, stopping briefly at a window that looks into a bedroom. Single bed, typical teenage school paraphernalia. He goes down even further and finds himself looking through a dark kitchen into a living room.

He gets a glimpse of the back of someone's head, slumped back over the edge of a wheelchair, before Tim blocks his sight. Walking wide around the man in the chair before leaning over to the right. Stretching out to reach for something just beyond the door frame. Tim's very careful to keep as much distance as possible from the man. Stepping back with a bottle of something alcoholic.

Jason goes very still when Tim turns and walks into the kitchen, but the kid bypasses the window and heads for the sink. He tilts it curiously before bringing the bottle to his mouth. Almost upending it for a single swallow before he dumps the rest out in the sink. There isn't much left.

He waits for Tim to turn his back before climbing back up to the top floor window. It's a cheap lock for the rich area, and Jason's in the room in a matter of seconds. Reaching out for the lamp on an honest to fuck desk, Jason takes in the details more thoroughly.

There's a pile of school books next to a fancy looking computer setup. The desk, bed, dresser, and bedside table are all heavy, expensive looking wood. The mattress itself is softer than anything Jason's been on in a good long while and he stretches out on it with relish. A digital clock blinks on the desk, and there's absolutely nothing else in the room.

No posters or pictures, no piles of clothes, no little toys or accessories. Little things that most people seem to gather are absent from the room. It's lived in but absolutely impersonal. Jason wonders if this is even where Tim lives, or if it's just something -crippled, drunk man aside- he uses occasionally.

The door rattles and Jason watches Tim come in the door. There's no surprise on his face when he sees Jason waiting for him, and the phone in his hand is still lit as he crosses the room to place his bag down. He turns back to face Jason, and his voice is patient and not angry at all, "It takes more than an hour for her to check her voicemail, you know?"

It's a total lie and they both know it, but Jason let's it slide. "Right. Not why I'm here though, baby snitch," his own half-lie rolls off his tongue before he can stop it. Jason's still not really sure why he is here. Vague curiosity about the kid working the streets has only sharpened, and Jason's left grasping for something. An excuse to stick around a little longer and poke at Tim. Find out what's really got him so interested.

"Oh?" Tim smiles and Jason has no doubt at all that the guy was born to money. It's perfect and polished like all the fake smiles he saw at every charity and gala event when he was Bruce's ward. A perfect little image of civility that clashes with Tim's ratty clothes and the very dangerous -and even dirtier- work he does for Oracle.

That, right there, Jason realizes is it. Tim is _money_. He's well bred and upper crust product. Manners and civility and a casual disregard for exactly how powerful that makes him. He's also got his hands elbow deep in the dirtiest stinking piles Gotham can offer. Running with people that can make him disappear without breaking a sweat and making _them_ listen to _him_.

It's interesting as all hell, and Jason knows himself enough not to discount Tim's looks from the equation either. In proper lighting, Jason lets himself really look, and Tim is a delicate looking thing with eyes sharp enough to cut. It's a look that he really appreciates.

"You seem pretty smart. Considering," Jason says, eyes taking in the room and remembering the area. A few questions coming to mind that he seizes on as he continues, "And I really just need a few quick answers tonight. I can wait for your boss lady to contact me on the rest."

"I'm not really equipped for independent contracting," Tim's eyes narrow as he hedges. He's loyal then, and Jason considers that a good thing. An informant willing to cut their boss out of a deal wasn't very reliable, or alive for very long. He hasn't _heard_ about Oracle killing anyone, but Jason's not going to discount that out of hand.

"Oracle can add it to my bill," Jason frowns and throws out a name. "The Joker."

Tim blinks, the only reaction he gives away. His voice is cautious as he prods for clarification, "Yes?"

"Where is he?" Jason already knows the answer, but confirmation never hurts. It's also giving him some insight into both Tim and Oracle. Joker is one of the few that she openly does not deal with, and the cautious look on Tim's face tells Jason there's a damn good story behind the why of it.

"Arkham," Tim states with little hesitation or uncertainty. He frowns, a furrow forming between his eyes. The fingers on his right hand slowly rub at the hem of his hoodie. A area even more worn than others. "That's information anyone could get. Why ask me something like that?"

"Because anyone on the street can make a wrong guess, and the docs don't like advertising when their pet psychos get loose," Jason rolls his head, feeling a slight crack as he goes for the other side of the pendulum. It takes more effort than he likes to not spit the next name out. "Robin."

Tim goes absolutely still in a way he hadn't when Jason had mentioned Joker. His face smooths out into a mask of indifference and the fingers of his right hand are tense and still. "What about her?"

It's all the answer Jason really needs. Something curls up sharp and hot in his chest, but he already expected it in a way. Someone who dealt with as much information as Oracle did couldn't be operating wholly on their own. They'd have to have Batman's approval or they'd be shut down fast. The fact that Oracle still deals with more criminal elements is probably deliberate.

It means Jason will have to be very careful in what he gives away when Oracle contacts him. Nothing he's not perfectly capable of doing.

"Nothing. Never mind that," Jason rolls to his feet and ignores the window. Sizing Tim up as he moves closer. Tim's head tips back to look him in the eyes even through the mask. His gaze is calm but almost challenging. Jason grins and reaches up to catch his face with one hand. Pushing his thumb against his soft, lower lip and regretting the glove he's wearing.

Tim's eyes flash and they look almost like ice. His left hand snaps up and out with speed and precision that speaks of training that Jason hadn't thought the guy had before. Jason's hand tingles from the force as Tim snakes around him in a fast move that makes Jason want to see him fight.

It'd be a sight to see. Jason brings his hand up towards one of the filters on the mask. He recognizes the faint scent and smiles at the wary and puzzled look on Tim's face, "Waste of perfectly good whiskey, baby snitch."

There might or might not be a hint of red along Tim's face at the repeat of the name before Jason jumps out of the open window. Jason likes the look of it. Regardless of how his dealings with Oracle go, he resolves to put that flush there as often as he can.

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	4. Chapter 4

**Dreaming  
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**A Word**: Request for Tim daydreaming about Jay.

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The picture bleeds through as Tim watches. Lines and shadows darkening as he swishes the slick paper through the developer solution. The acrid sting of the chemicals pricking his nose as he leans in close to see the image appear. Robin forms slowly. The dark green of his shoes and uniform followed by the red and then the yellow last. His dark hair and bright smile perfectly crisp in a way that Tim hasn't been able to get before.

Tim is officially in love with his new camera. He fishes the photo out with wooden tongs and dips it into the fixer before sinking it into the wash. Admiring the contrast he can see even in the red light of his darkroom. Each of the photos he develops shows the same lack of blurriness that's plagued his photos for so long. In minutes he has a dozen photos hanging up and dripping dry.

Tim puts his unused paper away and flips the light over. Taking the still damp picture of Robin with him as he leaves the dark room.

The manor is silent. The housekeeper having left for the night over an hour ago, and his parents not even half way through their trip to China. Tim goes straight for his room. Not feeling very comfortable anywhere else in the building. He flops out onto his bed and looks at the picture. Careful not to smudge or scratch the still soft surface.

Robin is midflight. Tim having captured him at the very apex of his jump. The line wrapped around his fist and his grin a mile wide as he looks as close to soaring as any human being can. Tim wonders what it's like. Flying through the city like that. He wonders if it's like the swooping feeling you get on a rollercoaster at the very top of a drop. He wonders how hard it would be for Robin to fly like that with someone else.

It's one of his favorite thoughts. Of flying along with Robin. The wind rushing past them as Robin holds Tim tight. That bright grin pressed against Tim's face as Gotham passes below them. Bright and beautiful even under all the grime. A laugh that Tim only hears from a distance echoing in his ear as they fly.

The skid as they land on a roof. Tim's feet not touching the ground until Robin has his balance, but his arm staying tight around Tim. "Hey, you have fun?"

Robin is taller than Tim so he'd have to look up to see him. Almost blind from the grin as Robin's other arm slides around him, pulling him closer as he tips his face down. Into a kiss that tastes like the wind.

Tim presses his fingers to his lips, the photo so close to his face he can almost taste the chemicals as he tries to imagine what that kiss would feel like. Soft and warm. Not at all like the brusque and cold kisses he gets at the airport from his mom. It'd be something to change the world, like the movies always show. Something that would be special and just them.

Tim grins into the darkness of his room and carefully traces the sharp line of Robin's mouth as the hours slip by. Batman and Robin leaving their base next door to patrol the city. Tim will follow in a bit, for now he lays still and thinks about smiling, laughing kisses.

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End file.
